The golden path spiraled upward like a ribbon cut from starlight, rising through the open chamber into a sky so dark it shimmered blue. Jude led the way, his hand tightly clasped around Lucy's. Behind them, Rose moved with slow grace, her body still aglow with the remnants of their joining. The others followed in silence, not out of fear, but reverence. Each step was a breath. Each breath, a prayer.
They weren't walking through air. The golden bridge shimmered with a softness that defied logic. It gave gently underfoot, like walking on memory or desire. Below them, the forest stretched far into the dark horizon, pulsing with gold and crimson veins like the beating of some vast living organism. Jude could see their path twisting behind them - lit by the seed's glow, slowly fading as they ascended.
